


Don't forget the milk

by ManagingMischief



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Betrayal, Hand Jobs, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 07:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16445546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManagingMischief/pseuds/ManagingMischief
Summary: A request from tumblr.They aren’t them anymore and yet they’ll always be them. With Remus off on secret missions with the wolves, Sirius has no reason to believe he isn’t a traitor. Yet he wants Remus to give him one anyway. Just one reason to justify the love he can’t just forget.Set during the first war, tensions are high and everyone is a suspect.





	Don't forget the milk

**Author's Note:**

> Here there be smutt, read at your own peril. Taken from a prompt sent to me on tumblr for some wolfstar smutt, but it's me so I had to add some angst. Please let me know what you think and feel free to come chat to me or make a request on tumblr ( mischiefmanagedwrites).

The fire was almost out. Reduced down to the final embers and still Sirius didn’t move from where he stood, leaning against the wall. He didn’t move, didn’t speak as he watched his companion carefully.  


Remus was stood next to the dying fire, one hand resting on the mantelpiece as he watched the flames die. If Sirius were a man of metaphors, he’d say that surely that stood for something, that the fire wasn’t the only thing dying. Dying as they both stood and watched it happen, knowing it was happening but doing absolutely nothing to stop it. 

Better it die than burn too bright, than spread too far until it was no longer within their control. 

Although, if you asked Sirius, their relationship had been out of their control for a long time now. He was helpless to stop it, he’d never done a damn thing. He’d never acted on his suspicions about his boyfriend, never questioned him about his so called ‘missions’ Dumbledore claimed to know nothing about. He hadn’t questioned the cuts and bruises after the first time, he hadn’t called him out on the lies or the secrecy. He simply hadn’t wanted to know. 

That’s what happened when you stood, watching with naive pride as your boyfriend lit the fuse to burn down everything you’d built together. That’s what happened when you were too terrified to stop something you didn’t want to acknowledge was happening in the first place. 

Remus was the mole. He was the leak. He knew that, he’d known for a long time and yet here he was, standing silently in the living room they’d shared together and pretending Remus hadn’t been gone for the last week, that he hadn’t disappeared on some mission once again, only to have apparently nothing to report. 

He stood and he pretended and Remus pretended too. They both played this game and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder when it was going to implode. 

“Tea?” he questioned, breaking the silence when it became too much to bear, his voice strained with a tension he didn’t know how to get rid of. “I think we’ve got some milk left.” 

“Tea sounds great.” Remus turned to him then, smiling weakly in a way that made Sirius want to shake him. Shake him until that fake smile left his face, until there was something fucking _real_ there, something he recognised. “It’s fine if there’s no milk — I like it black.” 

“Since when?” Sirius snapped, he couldn’t help it. Inexplicably furious all of a sudden that this fact had completely bypassed him. Since when had Remus taken his tea without milk? Since when had he completely lost sight of who the other man was? 

“I don’t — it’s just tea Sirius.” Remus murmured, although the pity in his eyes said something else entirely. 

He knew. He knew what was happening. They _both_ did. They both knew Remus was here now out of habit, out of some sense of obligation and maybe love. Maybe the ghost of a memory for what they’d been and what they no longer were. Two drowning men clinging onto what they could to delay the moment when they’d have to admit defeat. 

“It’s _just_ tea? It’s never just bloody tea Remus.” Sirius snapped, taking a step towards the other man as his eyes flashed dangerously. “ _Tell me_. Since when? When did you stop?” 

_When did you stop taking your tea without milk?_

_When did you stop telling me your secrets?_

_When did you stop loving me?_

“I didn’t. I didn’t stop — I’ll take it with milk if it means that much to you.” Remus replied, and Sirius could hear the impatience in his voice. He knew Remus wanted to run, that he wanted out of a conversation they weren’t even having yet. 

“Means that much to _me_? Just me then huh?” Sirius laughed, loud and bitter and within two strides he had Remus shoved up against the wall, bracketing him in with arms on either side. “What about _you_? When the fuck did it stop meaning anything to you Remus? Just fucking _tell me_ — tell me when it changed! Do _that_ much for me — for us.” 

His heart was pounding in his chest, eyes studying Remus with an intensity anyone else would have found uncomfortable. Desperate to see _something_ , to see _anything_ that he recognised. It was there for a second and then gone, a flash of something like regret on Remus’ face, something like longing and love and Sirius fucking wished James was here. He wished there was someone to tell him that this was crazy, that Remus was still Remus and that his disappearances were in fact a secret order mission he couldn’t disclose. 

Because whatever it was — whatever was going on, it was something Remus was too deep in. It was something that he was going to allow to tear them apart before he’d admit to it, before he’d let it be fixed. It was something bigger than them, than their love — and Sirius had never thought it possible that such a thing existed. 

“Stop…” Remus whispered, his voice firm despite the fact Sirius had crowded him against the wall. His hand warm as he cupped Sirius’ neck, movement swift as he pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips and whispered against them. “Stop asking things you don’t want the answers to.” 

He wasn’t wrong. Sirius _didn’t_ want the answer. He didn’t want it confirmed. He wanted his boyfriend back, he wanted to look into those beautiful fucking eyes and find something he _recognised_. He wanted _them_ , even if it was just for a little while. 

Remus must have sensed it too, or he wanted the same because before Sirius could formulate a response they were kissing, and Sirius could feel fingers digging into the back of his neck, so hard he was sure there’d be bruises. An imprint of something he wasn’t even sure was real anymore. 

Sirius wanted the kiss to taste different, to be tinged with an edge of bitterness and betrayal. He wanted it to feel _wrong_ , like two pieces of a puzzle that just didn’t fit together anymore. He wanted everything he felt to match with the truth he knew in his heart. 

He wanted to fucking _feel_ it, instead of simply believing it. Tangible proof that they were different now, something that made it easier to bear. 

It didn’t taste different, even as he felt the mild saltiness of tears. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt like coming home, it felt as though just for now, just for a second they could still be them. Kissing Remus felt as it always had and somehow that made it worse. 

“I hate you.” he whispered, as he tugged the thin jumper over Remus’ head. 

“I know.” Remus replied, as deft fingers made quick work of the fastening of Sirius’ jeans. 

He wished he meant it. He wished he could separate the Remus who fucked with a passion he’d apologise for later with _this_ Remus. He wished he could accept that this Remus was a traitor and have it not taint everything they’d once had. He wished he didn’t miss him, every fucking day. That he didn’t spend his nights alone, staring up at the ceiling and wishing for the man who had betrayed everything they held dear. 

He wished he didn’t shiver when Remus’ hand reached into his open jeans and palmed him roughly, wished that he didn’t crave the familiar touch more than anything else. He wished he could push him away, end this once and for all but he didn’t have that kind of strength, not when it came to Remus. 

Never Remus. 

Instead, he dipped his head, mouthing along a familiar jawline, biting down in his favourite spot and relishing in the gasp of pain and pleasure it elicited from the other man. Instead of pushing him away he let himself _feel_ it, all of it as Remus stroked him expertly and Sirius placed a tender kiss to the mark he’d left on that perfect neck. 

Let Remus leave with it. Let him go back to his new master bearing Sirius’ mark on his neck. Let him press his fingers against it and feel the sting of pain that told him he had something _real_. Something tangible and full of fucking feeling. Let him feel it and know that he’d lost it, even if Sirius wasn’t sure that was entirely true. That he wouldn’t go running the second Remus had regret — he wasn’t sure what kind of person that made him. 

“Turn around.” Remus’ voice was low against his ear, and Sirius groaned as the hand left his dick almost as quick as it had appeared there. “Hug the wall.” 

He didn’t think twice about it, turning and pressing his palms flat against the wall as he rested his forehead against it. He didn’t think twice as his jeans and underwear were tugged down over his hips, simply kicked them off and tried to control his own ragged breathing. 

He didn’t think twice as lubed fingers slipped inside him, as he parted his legs more to accommodate and his entire body trembled when Remus hit that spot inside of him _just so_. As he always had, as he played Sirius’ body like a fucking expert and Sirius hated him for it right then just as much as he loved him. 

“No more questions.” he heard Remus’ voice against the shell of his ear, felt as teeth nipped at his earlobe and the heat of a bare chest pressed against his back. “Not right now. Not tonight.” 

He didn’t reply, his only answer a longing moan as Remus pushed inside of him, and his hands scrambled for purchase against the wall. He was glad in that moment he couldn’t see him, that they couldn’t look in one another's eyes and simply see the loss of what they’d been, of what they’d never be again. 

Instead, he closed his eyes as Remus rocked into him. He closed his eyes and fucking _felt_ it, every thrust, heard every gasp from Remus and relished in the sharp pain as Remus bit down on his shoulder. 

He didn't’t look and he didn’t speak. He closed his eyes and he felt. He closed his eyes and pretended they could still be what they’d always been. He closed his eyes and pretended he wasn’t being fucked by a stranger with the face of the man he loved.

He closed his eyes and he stopped asking questions.   



End file.
